Small Set-back

Sometimes it is just so hard to act normal. By normal I mean, not a cancer patient(or survivor or whatever). I have little setbacks once in a while. Something will set me off and I have a mini breakdown.

Tonight it was my ears. My ears get bright red when I am busy, or hot or sometimes for no reason at all. Bright, neon red. In the olden days, the BC days, I would simply hide them in my hair.

This evening before rehearsal I was sewing the elastic on my new ballet shoes and was sitting under the dining room light. It was bright and hot and my ears turned red. When I went in to get ready for rehearsal I noticed and realized that with my hair like this I have nothing to hide my red ears behind. They are just right out there for everyone to see. And my heart beat a little faster and it hit me just how much of an armor my hair was to me. It covered me like a blanket and I could hide behind it. It protected me somehow deep in the recesses of my psyche. I feel so vulnerable and exposed with this short, short hair. I hate it. So there I was with red ears and I had no place to hide and I had a little panic attack. I found myself driving to rehearsal sobbing all of the sudden, like I had just lost my hair yesterday.

"What is wrong with me?" I thought. "Why am I freaking out?" I don't have an answer. I just lost it for a few minutes. When I got there, I sat in my car for a few minutes trying to gather myself and make sure I didn't look like an over-emotional idiot for walking into rehearsal looking like I had been crying. I mean, what was I supposed to say when someone asked me what was wrong? "Oh, I lost my hair 8 months ago and my ears are red and I am having an identity crisis." Somebody haul this girl off to the crazy farm, why don'tcha?

I managed to pull myself together and go in and participate in the rehearsal. But it was really hard. Not just because I am such a newby at all this and am terrified I may have bitten off too much with this show. But because there is this floor-to-ceiling mirror in the room and I had to watch my sucky dancing and red ears for two hours. And I felt like an outsider. A dancing outsider. I bought new ballet slippers yesterday because the ones I had been using were too big. I couldn't feel the floor with them on and they were hindering my balance, especially. So I bought some that fit and brought them to rehearsal only to find out we were mostly doing tap stuff and ballet slippers are a hindrance to that type of dancing. My character shoes would have been much better but I didn't have them with me. Several of the other girls are experienced dancers and pulled out their tap shoes and put them on and there I am the schmuck in the ballet slippers trying to learn tap combinations. Geez. I just felt like I couldn't win.

And we are still learning things that I don't expect to be performing in the show. The dance we are learning is for the guys Aggie football team number and the girls are just doing it for conditioning and to practice basics. The tap stuff is for the girls too, but mostly for the girls that will be doubling as the Angelettes (Aggie drillteam) and they will be doing a kickline. I say they, because there is no way I, who can not even kick waist high, will be a part of that number. And the tap is for the Doggettes who will be doing a tap number. And since I know I am most likely not going to be doing it in the show it is hard for me to get invested in learning something that is hard for me and makes me feel like a clumsy idiot in the wrong damned shoes. I lost my spirit to learn tonight. I did what I could but didn't have the heart to do more than half-assedly fake anything I found difficult, which was most of it.

Last night's vocal rehearsal, on the other hand, went well. We learned three songs and the harmonies are going to sound so awesome. My solo lines are well-placed in my voice and with a little practice I should be able to do them justice. The vocal director is so knowledgeable and easy to sing for. She made us feel relaxed which made it easier to learn. It was a good time and I look forward to more time with the music.

And the acting. I'd love to skip all the hard stuff I am bad at and get to the stuff I am good at. Let's sing and act. Sounds like fun to me!

I am making an effort to talk about some good things now because I know I am too hard on myself and I don't want to let myself wallow in the fact that I had a little emotional setback. I need to get over it and keep going.

When I took Jackson to school this morning one of his classmates was arriving at the same time. Her name is Emma and when she saw Jackson she came rushing over and they hugged and said hi. So cute. Course Jackson is a tiny guy and his head fit nicely on her chest for the hugs. Then Emma took him by the hand and lead him into the building. She kept saying 'I have my Jackson' and he kept turning to me and saying 'she holding my hand, mommy!' Such an awesome moment. I wish I'd had my camera.

I am really enjoying work lately because I am digging in and taking over duties to streamline the way we do things. This week I have been working on setting up an account with an office supply delivery company so that when we need things we order them and they are delivered instead of someone having to run to office depot or Sam's. So a new duty of mine will be a bi-weekly inventory to take stock of what we need in the office as well as toilet paper and coffee and hand soap, etc. This is blogworthy because when I started at the Palace almost 2 1/2 years ago it was a 3-man operation. Sonja did the box office, Mary Ellen produced the shows and Russ got the supplies. Now that we are growing and changing so much, there is no reason not to lighten some of the little administrative duties of these three and simply report to them as board members. So that is my goal. Figure out what needs done and the best way to do it. And not step on any toes in the process. If Russ, for example, wanted to continue going to Sam's to buy hand soap, by all means...but if he'd rather spend his time overseeing the renovation of the tin building...you get the picture.

So work is good. I love working in the theatre and making things work better. Something so normal is just so precious to me. I love being back.

Sleep is a precious thing

I have a little boy who can get out of his bed when he wants to. He has taken to visiting me in the wee hours. Every time he comes in he announces 'Mama, I get out my bed.' This makes me smile even at 2:00 in the morning. I have been lately letting him get in bed with me for a little while till he wants back in his bed, which is not usually more than 15 minutes or so.

I am not sure whether to try to end this behavior or not. I am of two minds. I much prefer this sleep disturbance to the alternative of him waking up and yelling for me to come in for 20 minutes till I wake up enough to drag myself into his room. And I will admit to being what I call a nightmare survivor. For as long as I can remember, I have always had vivid and real nightmares that wake me up and terrify me. Even now I wake David up several times a months with a nightmare. As a child I used to regularly go and get in bed with Daddy when I had a nightmare. If I stayed in my own bed and tried to go back to sleep, the nightmare would only return. I remember being 8 or 10 years old standing outside my parent's bedroom wanting to go in and telling myself I was too old for that and to go back to my own bed. Which I did. So now I have a hard time denying my son if he wants to get in with me for a few minutes for whatever reason. Sometimes you just need your mom or dad. Especially at 2:00 in the morning.

On the other hand, he also comes in regularly at about 6:00 or 6:20 a.m., almost the time David gets up for work. Jackson seems to know that it is almost morning and he comes to wait anxiously for his Daddy to get up. This bothers the hell out of both of us cause the last precious hour (or half hour) of sleep is golden and should not be ruined by a toddler who can't wait another minute for the day to begin. It is kinda funny, or it would be if I weren't trying desperately to sleep while it was going on. He is like a spring when he lays in bed with us, all taut and poised, ready to jump up at his Daddy's slightest move in the bed. When David does get up, so does the toddler. He springs up in the bed and announces, "I'm done sleeping!" This morning I made him stay in bed with me until we could hear that David was out of the shower. That wasn't easy to do. He kept asking me, "Is Daddy out the shower yet? Is he done yet." I was so amazingly tired this morning and this wasn't remotely funny.

Jackson also has been showing some sleep deprived behaviors the last few days. He isn't getting to sleep early enough at night, waking a few times each night and getting up too early. And then not napping long enough, or like today, running out of energy before the end of his preschool day. He was excited as hell to get there this morning and ran inside happily. He ate his lunch and behaved well, but apparently had his first paci meltdown at school. He has not asked for it at school before today. It has just been a fact that the paci does not go to school with him and he is fine with handing it over in the car. But he was tired today when I picked him up.

Cobby, the volunteer at work today, and I laughed a bit comparing the tired toddler to a belligerent drunk. Jackson was stumbling around, bleary-eyed, demanding, not really knowing what he wanted but pissed at you for not giving it to him. The little drunk boy was so tired, but was super-resistant to napping. Of course the timing was off. Nap time is generally between 12:30 and 1:00 and since school is over at 1:00, his nap is too late. But I got him somewhat appeased enough to nap. He was still sleeping at 4:15 and I had to wake him up to go home.

It was clear he wasn't done sleeping and his behavior showed it. He started right back in with the belligerent behavior. He demanded candy which I didn't have. I offered him a ginger snap and he scoffed at it and threw a small toy on the floor. Then when I put the cookies away he demanded one. I told him I'd give him a cookie if he picked up his toy and said please. He told me "No please!" and picked up his toy only to throw it on the floor again with a 'what're you gonna do about it' look. What did I do? I put the cookies away, gathered up a crying, kicking, screaming toddler and went home, dragging the child through the theatre where they were working on set, through a busy parking lot where the people either smiled at us or acted like I was beating the kid and to the car where I calmly (I am rather proud of how calmly) forced the struggling kid into his car seat. I explained what he had done wrong and why he didn't get a cookie and that he could try again later. I wanted to pull my hairs out it was so frustrating, but I could clearly see how tired he was and that this was fueling his tantrum.

An early bedtime was called for and we got him into his bed at 7:15, but I wouldn't say he was sleeping till 8:15 or 8:30ish. I think in general he needs to be in bed earlier. And I wonder if I need to pick him up from school early. Can he just not handle being up til 1:30? I dunno.

I don't know whether or how to curtail his visits to my room at night and how to and whether to get him to sleep longer in the morning. his behavior is so obviously tied to hunger and tiredness that I simply can't ignore the sleep factor in the ease of living with a toddler. He can be the most wonderful kid to be around, but if he is tired or hungry or both, forget it.

I do of course think he is a genius. Two things today make me say so. The first is his drawing ability. He is definitely left handed and he loves to color and draw. He has been working on drawing a car and today he did pretty darn well. He drew two circles for wheels which were almost the same size and then he drew an oblong shape on the wheels for the car. It really looked like a car! He brought it over and showed us all and then drew another one for us. What a talent, I tell you.

The other act of genius was when I was reading him his bedtime books. He likes a book that has pictures of babies dressed up in bug costumes; lady bugs, caterpillars, dragonflies, etc. He loves the butterfly picture and gets excited by it every night. Tonight he asked me what kind of butterfly I wanted which is his code for 'mommy, ask me what kind of butterfly I want.' He pointed to the picture of the small boy in the butterfly costume and said he wanted 'butterfly on his back' - the wings - so he could 'fly, fly, fly, everywhere, all outside.' And he acted out flying with his hand and asked me to buy him a butterfly. He thinks if he wears the costume he could fly like a butterfly. And although we all know the impossibility of this thought, my 2-year-old is a genius for putting it together the way he did. So says Mama.

Last night was dance rehearsal number two and I continue to suck, but not quite as bad as last time. I don't think there is much hope of me learning turns - pirouettes, and the like. The whole concept of 'spotting' so you don't get dizzy is not difficult to recognize, but is not actually easy to do. I did remember a number of combinations that were taught on Saturday, so that was good. I think I will do well enough in the end, but I can tell it is going to take a lot of work. And hopefully that work will result in a more toned physique to show off on the Palace Stage in May.

On that note, I took a SmartOnes lunch to work today. Larry had a Healthy Choice meal with him. After we both ate our health-conscious meals and were sitting in the office working on separate things, I couldn't ignore the fact that my stomach was still growling. I sighed and said, "Larry, I'm fricken hungry! I may have to break into the snack bar." Without missing a beat he replied, "I'll split a candy bar with you." So alas, the two Palace workers tore into a Twix bar and giggled the whole time.

Dancing, weddings and the Hokey Pokey

Dance rehearsal today was ok. The choreographer is good at teaching those of us who know very little how to do the basics. My lack of training is very apparent, as is my lack of natural ability. I don't think I am hopeless. Just awkward. And I may need a few private dance classes to get what I need to get. Luckily, my part is heavy acting and vocal, but my character doesn't necessarily have to dance in every number. So I have a few scenes doing what I am good at - acting - and it is pretty positive I won't be a featured dancer. And I am ok with that. I'd rather be a featured actor.

The girls that can dance really make it look easy. I admire them. I wish I naturally could make my body look the way theirs do. I don't know why I don't have that kind of body awareness. I just don't. Without the mirrored walls, I simply don't have any idea what my body looks like while I am trying to move it around. I hear all the time that it is just a matter of practice and experience, but I don't think so. I don't discount practice in bettering technique, but I think there is a case to be made for natural ability. I am an actor. I know this. What I do is mostly instinct and observation; knowing how people talk and act when they feel certain ways and being able to recreate that as naturally as possible. This is something I have always been able to do with very little teaching needed. I can train my voice and learn about scripts and breathing and other little things to make me better, but I believe I am an actor because I was made this way, in the same way that I was not made a dancer. I am not saying I can't get any better, but it isn't my inborn ability and it never will be.

For instance, there is a girl in the show that doesn't have a lot of dance training. But she does have a lot of dance experience in theatre. And she is good. Her body moves beautifully and she is lovely to watch. But the choreographer and dance captain correct her often on technique, always tweaking this and that and posture and other little things. Seems to me that she is constantly being corrected. I believe this is because what she is is a natural dancer with inborn ability, but hasn't been drilled and trained into ballet technique. And it must drive 'real' dancers crazy that she is so close, but just not exactly right. So they choose to correct her tiny mistakes and let me fall all over myself with little comment. Of course I am glad they don't comment on how obviously unschooled and slowly learning I am. They are probably making mental note that this particular working girl should be leaning seductively on a banister while the other girls dance. And I am so ok with that. I can give sexy eyes like nobody's business, but please don't ask me to can-can.

Rehearsal ended at 2:00 and I went home to quickly eat, change and head to Austin for a wedding. Andrea's brother got married at 4:00 this afternoon and it was fun. Very irreverent. Bridesmaids wore their own choice of black dress and colorful shoes. And the groomsmen (and bridesmen) wore whatever they wanted under their jackets: bright t-shirts, tux t-shirts, some funky jacket with furry arms. One even wore a head to toe orange tux, complete with patent leather orange shoes and tophat. Very awesome. The vows included 'to love honor and cherish in sickness and in health, for richer and poorer and on all federal holidays.' The rings were exchanged to vows of 'take this off at your own peril.' Pretty awesome. Then the pizza arrived. Yup. The wedding was catered by Austin's Pizza. And there were many kegs to be drunk. I had a couple of glasses of wine and stuck around through the bride and groom's first dance - which was to the Hokey Pokey. Then I hit the road and came home in time to read the book about the potty to Jackson before bedtime.

So it has been a pretty good day. Definitely ready for a good night's sleep. Went to bed late last night, then is stormed a little and scared Jackson. He came to our room at 2:00 in the morning saying, 'It's okay mama, it's only rain, there's nothing to be afraid." Course it sounded so much cuter. 'nuffin to be afwaid' is pretty damned cute even at 2:00 in the morning. I love that boy. But we didn't sleep much last night. And then wine. After a 4 hour dance rehearsal. I am beat.

I love having energy!

I have been busy this week, working and taking care of Jackson and shopping and cleaning and cooking.

Today, I got in the mail some Mary Kay stuff I ordered, which included a roll-up/hanging bag that can hold pretty much all my makeup and stuff, at least all the stuff I use regularly. I actually have a lot of make-up that I rarely use but don't want to part with. I always think I might need it in a show. And sometimes I do. But since I got this new bag and have been acquiring new skin care and make-up stuff the last year or so, I figured I should really go through it all and get rid of things I don't use and can't imagine needing in a show. And any make-up I have had since high school had to go. I am sometimes a bit of a hoarder and have been systematically going through my house throwing things out for a month or two. I did my closet a few weeks ago and tonight I did my cabinets in the bathroom. I had stuff in there that expired seven years ago! Bottles of peroxide and 10 year-old hand lotion I have never liked but wouldn't chuck. Not anymore though, I just had a grand old time chucking crap and reorganizing things so I can actually use them. It is so nice to have the energy to take care of Jackson, work half-day at the Palace and come home to spend 4 1/2 hours working on my bathroom. Awesome.

Here is a quandary for you all. If your son is enjoying himself playing on the floor amidst all the crap you have pulled out of the cabinets and becomes fixated on a tampax and wants to carry one around like a toy, is it ok to let him? Is this going to permanently scar him because the 'toy' he chose to take to bed with him tonight was the fascinating individually-wrapped tampon? I hope not.

Oh, good news, the cancer center called to let me know that my PET scan showed no evidence of Lymphoma. So I am still all clear. I asked if they still want me to schedule a CT scan since they couldn't do it the same day. They are going to get back to me next week when Dr. George gets back in the office. So maybe I'll get a CT too, or maybe the insurance company wins and they decide not to do one. Is that their master plan, those sneaky bastards at Aetna? Maybe so.

One of the new Mary Kay products I got today was their microdermabrasion 2 step system. They say it has the same professional grade exfoliating crystals used by dermatologists. I don't know about that, but I do know that I tried it tonight and my face now feels like a baby's butt. The difference is amazing and I am sold on it already. I really should give in and sell the stuff as much schilling as I do for them on my blog. At least I know how to work the system so I don't pay full price for everything.

Tomorrow is the first dance rehearsal for Whorehouse. 10a-2p. Four hours. Of dancing. I sure hope my energy holds up and that I don't completely embarrass myself. I should probably go to bed now.

Interesting News

So the mole I just had removed from my back tested positive for 'atypical cells'. Not cancer, but pre-cancer; cells that had begun to mutate. I don't have to do anything about it right now because the test shows that they removed all the atypical cells. We got it before there was any big deal. I just have to go back in three months to follow up. I figure I will do a serious mole check and make sure if I have any more that I get them removed soon.

S everybody, check your body! If you have moles that aren't perfect circles, that are as big or bigger than a pencil eraser, or have changed size or shape in your memory of them, go get 'em removed. Skin cancer requires chemo and I assure you, you don't want to do it if you don't have to.

I sure as hell am not going to be taken out by a fricken mole after all I have been through. Sheesh.

Lots of Stuff

It has been a busy several days. Saturday David, Jackson and I packed up and headed to Harker Heights to visit the In-Laws. Jackson got quality time with his Omi and Grandpa and his Uncle Kris, whom he adores.

We had a huge dinner and I ate way too much and had a couple of margaritas and got kinda talky (sorry guys). I had a really good time and Susanne, of course, gave us generous Easter bags with clothes and candy. She knows I love chocolate from Germany. Milka is the brand. It is infinitely better than a Hershey bar. It is richer and tastier and creamier and I can eat two or three squares a night and make a bar last for weeks. It is somewhat hard to find. Susanne found some at World Market. Which is funny because though it is Made in Germany and certainly has been around since my Husband was a kid in Germany, it is distributed by Kraft Foods out of Illinois. Says so right on the back. Anyway, thanks Susanne, I love the chocolate and new jammies.

Sunday morning, Jackson and I got up and headed to Santa Anna to visit my Dad. My Uncle Dan and his family were at Dad's visiting for a few days. It was kind of a trip to see their oldest son, who I held as a day-old baby. He's 15 now and such a young man. When he was born, my Dad took my picture holding him in the hospital and later painted an oil painting from the photo. So Kenny got to see a painting of me holding him when I was just about his age. That makes me officially old.

Visiting Dan and Kate and their boys was a treat. I haven't seen them in so long. Kate is stricken with MS and has lost a lot of motion in her legs and must use a cane to walk and a wheelchair for anything more than a few feet. Her husband and 3 sons help her a great deal and she gets by pretty well. I don't really know what to say about it other than it really sucks ass that there aren't more treatments that could stop the degeneration. Stem Cell treatments look promising, but the USA is not a leader in such research, go figure. I just know that I admire the hell out of Kate for her strength and ability to live her life with love and humor. But having been in a life or death struggle myself, I know that you just do it and get through and enjoy everything you can. There simply isn't another choice, not for me and not for so many people living with disease and illness. You just say "It's not going to effin win" and you keep going.

Jackson had a ball playing with the boys, who are 11, 13 and 15. They are outdoors boys who like nothing more than a few balls to throw or kick around. And having come from up north, they really took advantage of the nice weather to be outside as much as they could. Jackson just ran around after them and kicked his own little ball. They were really good to him and were careful to watch out and not run him over. I forgot my camera like an idiot so don't have any pictures of them running around.

Yesterday, Mary Ellen finally posted the cast list for The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas. I am going to be Angel, one of Mona's working girls at the 'chicken ranch'. I am so excited! It is a good part. A few decent acting scenes and several solos in at least one song. And the best part is that several good friends and tons of other cool people are also going to be in it. My best friend, Andrea, got a fabulous part and gets to sing the best song in the show! I am so excited to be in a show with her again. It has been awhile. Years, in fact. The read-thru is tomorrow night and I am very excited. Did I already say that? Yup, I'm excited.

I can't believe how affectionate my son has become. This is the baby who at 5 months old couldn't stand to be held when he was tired; who would only sleep in your arms when he was burning up with fever and feeling terrible. He has not been a lovey little guy and I learned to accept that I didn't have a cuddler.

Well, now that he is four months shy of turning three, he has decided that he loves his mother. He wants me to hold him and he actually puts his head on my shoulder and hugs back! This is a huge shift for him! He likes to stand in front of me while I am working and put his head in my lap. He says he loves me all the time and cracks me up by asking all the time, "Do you love me, Mama?" This he got from his father, who asks me several times a day if I love him. Jackson has taken up the habit and it is so cute. When he is showing me affection, he says "Oooohhhhh". He got that from me. Whenever I sneak a hug in while dressing him I say it. I don't know why, I just do. Same reason when I hug someone, I pat them on the back. My mom says I have done that since I was a toddler. Don't know why, I just do. So I am enjoying all the hugs and kisses and "do you love me's" and "ooohhhh's". I figure he may go back to his old anti-hug self at any moment so I'd better relish it while I can.

What else? Oh yeah. I had a PET scan this morning. I was supposed to have a PET/CT scan this morning, but Aetna, who knows better than my doctor apparently, decided that getting the CT at the same time as the PET would be too convenient. I was already hooked up to the IV and laying in the machine that does both tests. But it wasn't to be. The tech told me that lots of insurance companies, as of January, are requiring that the PET and CT scans be on different days. No one knows why other than to cause as much inconvenience as they can and possibly make the patients pay more. Two office visits, two IV starts, two scans, patient pays 20% of two visits instead of one. Of course I suspect that after I meet my yearly deductible and out of pocket, that they let me do both scans at once like last year. We shall see.

Of course this isn't such a hardship for me as it is for the patients coming from nursing homes who can barely walk and have hard-to-stick veins. The tech said it was really sucking for the sick and elderly people. Such an arbitrary rule that has absolutely nothing to do with doing the right thing for the patients. Just whatever the insurance says is what the healthcare industry has to do. And you people who are terrified of socialized medicine, what is the difference exactly? How is this any better?

So at some point soon I will have a CT scan, hopefully not in downtown Austin in morning traffic. I will let you all know the PET results when I get them later this week.

I'm not Francine, but I ain't bad

I got a callback for Best Little Whorehouse, which was held last night. Pretty unexciting actually. I had a good time hanging out, visiting with the several old friends who were also auditioning and watching the goings on. I was called back to read/sing for 'Mona's girls' aka 'the ho's'. We were not scheduled to read/sing till 8:45 but it went pretty much as expected - they didn't get to us till 10:00. But that was ok, I was patient and having fun hanging out.

But when it was finally our turn, it was late and they were tired and we didn't really get to do much. Got to sing a couple of bars each in one of the songs the ho's do. And got to read a couple of sentences. That was it. Turns out the director plans to simply cast the girls she wants and work out which girl plays which parts another day. I was disappointed because I was all geared up to really audition, compete, give em hell. And it turns out I didn't have to. It kinda took the wind outta my sails.

But, I am fairly certain I will be cast as one of Mona's girls. I felt really good about my initial audition and then singing with all the other girls I could see where I fit in that group and it looks good. Plus, I am not sure how many girls there will be, but there were not too many extra called back. Maybe even everyone will be cast and placed according to who can sing what. If so I feel pretty confident because I was as good a singer or better than most and not too far behind those above me.

I have learned thru this audition that I have got to stop underestimating what I can do. I don't consider myself a singer because I can't belt the blues like Aretha. I so admire and almost worship great singers. I want desperately to come back as a soul singer, a blues woman, a Francine Reed. (Link goes to Francine song on Lyle album.)

Because I can't sing like that I do this all or nothing thing. I can't sing like Jennifer Holiday so I don't sing at all. Stupid, really because all I am doing is sabotaging myself and denying myself the joy of acting and singing in musicals. "I can't dance," I say, "I can't sing." When the reality is that I sang as well or better than most at this audition. And I do a pretty mean Janis Joplin at theatre karaoke parties. Maybe I can't play Reno Sweeney but that doesn't mean I can't get a decent part in a local musical.

So hopefully my instincts are right and I will get a part in Whorehouse and in May, you'll find me scantily clad on the Palace stage. Cast list probably won't go up til Monday. I'll let you know.

I also had an appt with my dermatologist yesterday and had a couple of moles removed. One had 'abnormal' boundaries. They would normally have just watched it for a while to see if it changes or grows, but because it is in the middle of my back, they wanted to remove it. They tend to remove anything you can't monitor well yourself - backs and scalps they told me. And because I have a prior cancer they are also very careful. They sent it off to be tested for skin cancer. Just a precaution, really, so I am not nervous about that. I don't expect it to come back as anything.

I am more worried about the fact that I can't reach the little wound on my back to clean and care for it. I can't even reach the band-aid to take it off. I am supposed to keep it moist and covered so it heals nicely. Not sure exactly how to work it. If I shower in the morning after David goes to work, I have no way to change the dressing. I am seeing my mom in the morning, so she can help me then. I guess I'll figure it out.

I Auditioned!

Just got home from my audition and I am feeling relieved that it is done and happy that I didn't suck. Really! I didn't suck! I did my monologue pretty darn well, my song was a good choice for me and I was able to sing it with a little attitude (Bonnie Raitt's Love me like a man) and I even did better on the dance than I expected. Not fabulous, as I truly am not a natural dancer. I am an awkward dancer. But I managed to remember the steps and perform them almost correctly. I only looked dorky probably and not totally hopeless. So I am done and will see if I get a callback. Hurrah! I managed to get over wanting to vomit and auditioned for a musical for the first time since I did Annie in 2002.

Groceries, Audition and Lawn Mowing

We went to the grocery store at 5:30 this evening. Apparently this is a very popular time to stock up cause everyone else was there too. And Jackson insists on us using the car carts which are as long as boats, but don't have as much grocery space as a regular cart. Hard to drive in a busy store.

But still I felt grateful to be able to fill my cart with the food we wanted even though prices have gone so far up in the last few months. I worry that if things continue as they are we will have to actually budget for groceries and really look at the prices of the things we like and see where we can cut back. David brings home a good salary, but gas prices and food prices and pre-school and co-pays really eat into it. I am sure this is a pretty familiar story for many folks. Not too frightened yet, but uneasy about things to come. And the medical bills are coming, I am due to be getting some any day now, plus the PET scan coming soon. I hate thinking about money. Blah.

But we cooked a great dinner of tilapia and rice and salad. I am generally not a fish person, but am learning to like it. I just have to find the least 'fishy' fish, like salmon and tilapia. Good stuff.

I am auditioning tomorrow for the next big musical at the Palace - The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas. I don't generally do musicals as I am not much of a dancer and though I sing well, I sing quietly. But this one just seems like a heck of a lot of fun and I figured I'd give it a shot. Why not? I don't have anything else to do and David will be directing a show in a few months. So Monday evening I'll head down as see how it goes. I figure I will do great in the monologue portion, pretty good in the vocal portion and passing to poor in the dance portion. But since it is my home theatre, perhaps Mary Ellen will have some compassion for my lack of dance training and let me in the chorus anyway. Heh, I'm not sure all the whores have to dance so much, maybe I could get away with suggestive movement. I can do sexy. I think. I just can't really dance. Hell, I'm even game to go on stage in really skimpy costumes, I've done it before. I wore a teddy onstage in college and in a show pre-Jackson I got stripped of my blouse onstage and had the long, black skirt I was wearing pulled up to be a sleeveless slip-dress. Quite a shocking and terribly funny moment it was. Ah, the good old days.


I took a few pictures this afternoon of Jackson and his daddy mowing the yard. Very cute. The little boy read me a couple of his favorite books before bed. It is always surprising to realize how much he knows. From a squirming lump, to a boy who can recite most of goodnight moon. Parenthood is awesome. Hard work, but awesome.

Ponderings and Ramblings

Last night in my dreams I had my long hair. I actually remember dreaming that I looked in the mirror and saw myself with it and thought, 'oh wow, my hair isn't gone after all.' It didn't really even start as a dream about my hair. But as soon as my dream self realized that my hair was back it became a dream about hair. I washed it and spent forever in the dream luxuriating in rinsing it and then combing it and it even had a nice wave in it. Lots of body. It was my old hair, only better. I never had body or anything resembling a wave or curl. Even perms didn't last more than a few weeks. When I woke up and realized that it was just a dream I was so disappointed.

I don't really hate my short 'do'. I even am pleased that it looks better than I imagined it would. But it isn't how I see myself deep in my subconscious, I guess. I started thinking about it and realize that I have my old hair in every dream. I can't remember a dream where I was bald or had short, short hair. Not that I see myself in every dream, but there is a self-awareness in dreams and that awareness has never gone bald and started over from nothing.

Losing my hair really hurt. It was like my identity fell out with all my hair. It was such a traumatic event that even now 7 months after I became a bald cancer patient the memory of it and the loss of it still hurts. The 'it'll grow back' crowd just doesn't understand that even after it grows back, the pain of losing it is still there. I still miss my hair. I fricken dream about it.

Ironically, knowing what I know now, if I had all my old hair back, I wouldn't even keep it. I would immediately go to the salon and cut it into a really cute swing bob or something. Perhaps it is just the lack of choice, the powerlessness and the devastation that illness + baldness creates that has left such a lasting scar.

I have such mixed feelings when people are so excited to see me with hair on my head that wasn't store bought. I know their excitement is mostly a good deal of happiness that I am well now and done with treatment. I just have a hard time being excited about it. Yay, I'm not bald, but I still hurt from having been bald. I still have the cancer bomb hanging there for the rest of my life. I still have a long road of awkward lengths to deal with before I get to choose how to wear my hair like other people.

But I am happy to be alive. Bitching about hair loss is just that, bitching. I know that chemo saved my life and I all I had to trade for it was my hair. They said 'give me your hair and you can have your life back.' Heh, 'and money, we want your money too. And you have to feel like shit for six months. And dream about your hair from time to time. And there is no guarantee it will stay gone. But give us your hair and we'll give you a chance.'

I guess it isn't so bad of a trade. It just sucks sometimes to be saddled with the experience of it. I read a few blogs of other cancer patients and out of the 7 that I read 3 of them have relapsed and another one is terminal. Not very good statistics and it isn't a very representative number, maybe I should broaden my reading list.

And that brings me to the whole question of what do we who have/had cancer call ourselves. I guess the common lingo is 'cancer survivor'. But for some reason I feel self-conscious using that term. Can't really explain it other than to call myself a cancer survivor might jinx my remission. It also makes me feel like there should be a lifetime network movie about me and I don't want to feel like a victim. I'm pissed off sometimes and I do say 'poor me' sometimes, but who wants to feel like they live in some movie starring Shannon Dougherty? Not me.

But I am not really a cancer patient since I am done with chemo. I still get my counts checked all the time and get PET/CT scans every three months. I still have a port implanted in my chest. I guess I will feel more like a cancer survivor when I feel less like a cancer patient.

On an interesting note that I have continually forgotten to blog about, I can't listed to my mp3 player without feeling sick to my stomach. I used to listen to it during chemo and now when I so much as take it out of its case my stomach starts to roll and I feel sick. I discovered this on the plane to NYC. I knew it was all in my head, a product of my brain mistaking the mp3 player as the cause of my nausea from chemo. I forced myself to listen anyway and after a song or two the feeling went away. It happened on the plane ride home too. Heh, even thinking about listening to it makes my stomach roll. It seems to be imprinted - mp3 player = yuck.


We took advantage of the weather yesterday and went to the park with Jackson. Elaine met us there and brought her camera. She sent this shot and I love it. The baby is not such a baby anymore. He is a little boy.

I had the opportunity to hold a 7 week-old boy today and man, I really want another baby. Felt so good to hold the compact little squirming bundle. Don't know if and when that could happen for us. A pregnancy for me would mean committing to 10 months or more of no PET scans. For some reason they won't give you radioactive sugar by iv if you are pregnant. When would it be ok to stop the scans? And do I have any unfried eggs after chemo? Questions that only time can answer.

Rituxan

Scientific American has published an article this week talking about the improvement in life span of Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma patients who take Rituxan with Chemo. This was the R in my R-CHOP treatment. Glad to read that it is really making a difference.

Except I still hate to hear them talk about 5 year survival rates. What do I care about 5 year rates at 31 years old with a toddler son and the (pipe)dream of having more children? I want to talk about 20 years, 30 years, not 5. Five years is simply not good enough.

Am I supposed to say now that I am ever so grateful for any measly ol life extension? Well, I'm not. I want more. Demand more. Insist upon more. Am I ungrateful? Youbetcha. Fuck off, cancer. Don't come back. Not in five years, not in twenty. So there. Case closed.

True Story

This story starts with a confession. I do. Occasionally. Fart. I know, it is shocking, but true. Sometimes it happens.

And this morning while I was changing Jackson, I passed wind. Then Jackson got really excited and said, "Did you hear that? Daddy's home!"

Two Things

Two news stories today made me want to rant a little.

First, the answer to our health-care crisis is right under our noses. It's in our drinking water! Studies are showing that much of our water supply is contaminated with prescription drugs. So all of you without health insurance, drink up! There's sure to be something in there to cure whatever ails you. Tada! I should run for president.

Or Governor.

That seems to afford you all kinds of perks. You get to be "involved" in prostitution rings. What? You don't? Oh. Well then, you just apologize, and say "My bad" and everything will be ok. And your doormat of a wife will stand behind you at a press conference where you apologize.

I don't get it. Why do these women attend the press conference? I am not saying she should leave him. It is her marriage to deal with. Either it is over or it isn't. But damn. Does she get no time to be pissed off a little bit? No time to say "Hey, I'm really hurt right now and I don't want to stand behind you on TV."

I would never stand behind him at the press conference. I would hold my own press conference. I'd probably curse him publicly for humiliating me and ruining his own career and the stability of our family. Then I would announce that I would be out of touch on a retreat spending a great deal of his earnings and would discuss counseling and the possible saving of our marriage when I got back.

But no. I would never stand behind a cheating, lying man at a press conference. Not even for the 4 million dollar purple diamond ring Kobe Bryant's wife got after his press conference.

I'd take the damn ring in payment for the public humiliation. But I still wouldn't attend the press conference.

A Comparison

My bloodwork came back largely normal today. Not cancer patient normal. Normal normal. WBC at 7.2! No artificial assistance, I made all those cells on my own. Isn't that exciting? It really is, trust me.

In honor of this great spontaneous cell production and just because the comparison is so africken-mazing, I am going to share a photo with you. This was taken at my request the second week of November just before my mom and husband near-carried me to the car to go to the ER for the first of my 5-day hospitalizations. It was a week after my 6th and final round of chemo. To me, this is what chemo looks like - along with dehydration and the beginnings of a pseudamonas infection on my face. A few hours later the spot on my cheek would swell to about the size of a baseball and require minor surgery and another two months to heal. And lots of bitterness to get over.



And then there is this one of David and me having a blast in NYC. Just a small dimpled scar is left on my cheek. And I am not so very bitter. And not so very sick. That is nice.

Not Much

Life is pretty laid-back right now. Except for the being sick thing. Jackson and I still have snotty noses. I get my blood levels checked again tomorrow and I am hoping my WBC will be more than the 1.7 it was last week. Up is good.

We did our taxes this evening and counting up all the money spent on medical bills was tedious but rewarding. We paid $1198 for prescriptions alone last year. Wow. All the co-pays really add up too. But it means we get a decent tax return and we are so glad the year 2007 and the tax prep for 2007 are done.

Though things are mundane right now, life with a 2 1/2 year old is not. Jackson is such a funny guy. He told me this morning "that's some nice jammies you got there, mommy." I don't know where that comes from, the 'you got there' statements. During the thunderstorm last week, he came into my room and told me "you don't have to be afraid, mommy." He is getting so affectionate lately. He has never been interested in cuddling and being held. But he is learning what it is all about, I think. When I say "I love you, Jackson" he says "I love you too, mommy." He even crawls up in my lap an says he loves me out of nowhere. And he wants to be hugged and held much more than he ever has. I am enjoying it. What a sweet boy he is.

Can I just say that I absolutely hate daylight savings time? We have been messed up all day because of the time change. I hate this. I am always so happy in October when we get to switch back. Except it isn't in October anymore, it is not until November now since Congress decided to prolong the torture. Can we just leave the damned clock alone?

I'm not sick anymore! Hooray!

I am finally feeling better today. I have been down on my hind end for days and days. Then the antibiotic ripped my stomach to shreds and I had stomach cramps for a day and a half. But I am now less like a human snot machine and can actually eat again and sort of taste it. I suspect flu, but didn't confirm it.

Jackson is dealing with it too. He is done with the fever part, but still in the terrible snot part and he still refuses to blow his nose. Poor boy. I think he should be able to go to school on Thursday, but he still needs a bit of recovery time.

Since I felt better today and my mom was here, I took advantage of it and cleaned house. I want all the germies out of here. I have the doors and windows open to air everything out and have cloroxed the house. Clean sheets and mopped floors and fresh air. Finally managed to unpack and put all the suitcases away. I am so glad to be feeling better and tomorrow I can get back to work. Hopefully my degermifying the house will keep David well. I hope.

Jackson figured out this morning that he can get out of his bed. Instead of sitting in bed yelling for me to come get him up, he simply came wandering into my bedroom this morning about 7:40 and said "Mama, I get out of my bed." The only thing cuter would have been him running in saying, "tada!" He is napping now and I am waiting to see if he yells to get up or if he comes wandering out.

I hope he wakes soon, cause I need to get in his room and degermify in there too. He needs all fresh bedding and his window opened and everything vacuumed too.

You know, it may sounds weird to some people, but it feels damned good to be able to get up and clean my own damned house if I want to. Being down on my ass for six days reminded me too much of the so-recent chemo days. Mom kept complaining I was doing too much today, but I can't help it. I feel good today and that makes me want to do what I feel like doing, no limits.

I just hope my counts come up and stay there. They were low on Wed and I went in Friday to have them checked and they were even lower. They contemplated IV antibiotics which could have meant another hospital stay, but Dr. George really felt my illness was viral or flu and more antibiotics wouldn't help. So i got to stay home on my own couch. We had my counts checked yesterday and they were slightly up; WBC was 1.7. Normal is 5-ish to 10-ish. So I am still not in that normal range yet. I get checked again in a week and I hope to see a big jump. At least to 4-ish. It makes me nervous that my bone marrow has still not recovered enough to work as it should. Dr. George says it isn't unusual for it to take a year or more. But I am impatient. What are you waiting for, bone marrow?

I will be scheduling my next PET scan for sometime in March. I'll post on that when it happens.

No WBC Love

Jackson has been sick; running a fever and feeling bad since Sunday. And this morning I woke up with a fever, cough and body aches. Blah. Jackson didn't have a fever and I didn't feel bad enough to stay home, so we trucked it on into work. But we had hardly arrived when Jackson started feeling bad and crying. I wasn't able to comfort him and make him happy. He just wanted to come home, he said. I had an appointment with my oncologist at 2:30 so I took Jackson home and my Mom and Tonya came to watch him while I ran to my appointment.

I had planned to get in and out and then run Jackson in to the pedi afterwards. But that didn't happen. My counts are low again. It seems I just can't get sick like a normal person yet. When a normal person's body is fighting off a cold or the flu or whatever, their white blood count rises and reads high as their bone marrow kicks into high gear and takes care of it. Mine drops into the toilet as it struggles to keep up. So a little illness means a big-gun antibiotic, chest x-ray and follow-up blood work. I didn't finish in time to get the boy seen too. And he seemed to be doing better this evening.

I feel selfish that I didn't get Jackson in to the doc today after being sick for three or four days because I had to go to the doc after a morning of feeling sick. Especially since my Mom discovered that his pee pee is red and irritated, which could be why he was so miserable this morning. We shall see how we are in the morning. If he still isn't feeling well and has an irritated peter I'll try to get him seen. Poor baby whose mama couldn't figure out what was wrong with him.

NYC!

New York City was a blast. We got home late on Sunday night exhausted and broke. It was a very busy four days; I am not even sure what and how much to write about the trip. So in honor of our historic appearance in the studio audience of Letterman, how about I do a top ten list?

Ten things I learned in New York City:

10. When you stand in line to get into the Good Morning America studio at 6:00 in the morning, an angry young black man will stand nearby screaming obscenities and unintelligible phrases at you. You can try your damnedest to make out what he is saying. He could be upset about Darfur or worried that Iran will become a nuclear power, but most likely he is just fricken crazy.

9. When a person dressed as the Statue of Liberty wants to take a picture with you, don't think he is doing it for the warm fuzzies. After you pose for the photo he will demand you pay him $5. As a gullible tourist, you will pay him and feel like an ass, but at least the photo is pretty good.


8. When you take your husband's picture with a Rockette, you will realize how handsome he is and you will not take it personally how great he looks standing next to her.


7. When you take a limo to the Empire States Building after a Broadway show and get to the top without having to stand in line, you will feel like a rock star. Of course, the no waiting thing wasn't because we were special, but because there was hardly anyone there. It was freezing up there, but gorgeous at night.

6. Guards at the Met have a large sense of their own power and enjoy yelling at people. Instead of posting signs like "No pictures in this room, please" they post guards nearby to yell at anyone taking pictures. And since photos are allowed in much of the museum, there are lots of people taking pictures. Berating tourists must be a sport at the Met. Beware.

5. Street pizza really is the best pizza in the world. It may look like Texas mall pizza, but there simply is no comparison. New Yorkers really know how to eat.
But if you decide to have the big breakfast buffet at the Park Central Hotel, be sure to ask how much it is first. Otherwise you might have a heart attack when you get the bill of $57 for two people to eat waffles, eggs and bacon. Ouch!



4. Snow is awesome. And I have decided I should move to a cold climate. Not because I like the temperature, but because it is so easy to look chic and stylish in a nice coat and scarf. I would catch a glimpse of myself walking past the shiny buildings and think, "Damn, I look pretty good!" In the Texas heat we wear much less clothing. And in the summer especially, it is not so easy to look good, especially for those of us pasty people. But in NYC in the winter, a tailored coat and scarf makes you look like a star. And even the Broadway dancers, who tend to wear very little on stage, are just as pasty as me. And they make it look good. No fake-n-bake! I love it!

3. A few blocks from the Empire States Building is a legitimate museum called the Museum of Sex. It has artifacts and exhibits you can walk through as an intellectual, just as you walk through the Met - except there are no guards yelling a people. And though you view the exhibits in a grown-up, classy manner, it just might make the rest of your trip with your spouse a tad bit more, um, interesting.

2.Being in the studio audience of Letterman will turn you into a dork. You will keep checking the monitor to see if you are visible and when you are you may just bop your head back and forth a little bit to see yourself move on the monitor. This will cement your status as a dork.


1. If you find yourself standing next to a wax statue of Paris Hilton, you simply must pick her nose.


If you want to see more of our NYC pics, I put the more interesting ones on Shutterfly. Take a look if you want.

So much to say!

Man, I have been busy the last several days. I've had so much to write about, but didn't have the time or energy to do it until now. And I am not sure which thing to start with.

I guess I will start with the most recent and work backwards since tonight is still fresh on my mind.

Tonight was the Team in Training pasta party for the runners competing in the Austin AT&T marathon tomorrow. I was the guest speaker for the event and I have to say it went really well. I expanded and rewrote my speech and was able to deliver it comfortably and I felt like I really reached people. There were about 150 people there; runners and coaches and families, at the Radisson Hotel downtown. Dinner was designed for the runners, two kinds of pasta and grilled chicken breast. I sure could have used a glass of wine, but I don't think they recommend that for runners the night before the marathon. Probably better that I not drink drying wine before speaking anyway, seeing as last time I spoke I had a dry mouth issue.


I wore my tiara and sash, but the gown I was hoping to wear didn't work out. I borrowed this gorgeous red flowy gown from Ramona's. The pic doesn't do it justice, you can't see the sparkly rhinestones all over the bodice. When I tried it on there, the zipper was broken and Ronni was so kind as to put in a new zipper. I suspected that with a fixed zipper I wouldn't be able to zip it up, but I brought it home anyway to try. The bodice is very, very fitted just under the bosom and my rib cage is simply too wide for it. It just wouldn't go. Even if I didn't eat for a week, I doubt it would fit. David tried to help me zip it, but it was a no go. Perhaps with another person we could have gotten it, but I decided if it takes two people and removing a rib to get a dress to zip, it wasn't meant to be. It is gorgeous though and exactly the gown I am looking for to wear as the chemo queen. My heart is broken...**sniff sniff***


Instead I wore the awesome vintage blue-lace cocktail dress that I wore in Barefoot in the Park. Of course like idiots we left our camera at home so we don't have any good pictures of the event. Andrea' took this with her camera phone.

I went ahead and wore the wig. I have been trying to find a tiara that is small enough to fit my head without the wig. But I must have a tiny head, cause everything I have tried is too big. And I don't have enough hair yet for the combs to work. A few more months and I should be able to use a bobby pin or something. But tonight, I wore the wig, even though I would rather not. I love the wig, but it feels too much like a crutch to me at this point. Like pretension. I have half an inch of hair and it looks decent. I am not Britney Spears that I have to wear wigs and greasy hair extensions to pretend I have hair. I wonder what she would look like if she just cut it out and wore her hair short, whatever length it is. It would probably look better. Poor girl, what a mess.

Why am I off on a Britney Spears tangent? Huh?

What I should be writing about is how a ballroom full of people listened to my story tonight and were right there with me so much that as I spoke, most of them were tearing up, like me. And when I finished the room stood as one and clapped. I got a standing ovation and it meant more to me than any of the ovations I have gotten over the years on stage. This was different. What a warm, wonderful group of people, so many touched, no, burned, by cancer. And I was able to reach them and we all cried together when the emcee got up after I spoke and asked for a moment of silence to honor those who have fought cancer and won, and those who didn't make it. It was a pretty damned emotional and I was so proud to have been a part of it.

I have no idea if I will ever be asked to speak like that again, but I am glad I did it. So many people came to me afterwards and gave me a hug and just told me that they were inspired. I met other survivors who are running tomorrow. And I am invited to hang out at a couple of water stops tomorrow. I will probably get up at the crack of dawn to head downtown to cheer the Team In Training runners on. Should be fun.

I also did my callback audition this afternoon for Stop Kiss. It went well. I read some scenes better than others and as usual I feel I could have done better in some things. But am satisfied overall with how it went. And I really don't envy the director. There were eight women vying for two parts and seriously, the director could cast it any number of ways. Everyone was good and everyone was different in some way. Usually when I leave an audition I can say with confidence who I would cast if I were the director. This time, damn, I just don't know. I don't think she can go wrong whatever she decides. I should know Monday some time whether I am cast or not.

And I have cool news on the NYC trip that is rapidly approaching! I can't remember if I mentioned in the last blog that we are confirmed to be in the indoor studio audience of Good Morning America on Thursday morning next week. And that is cool enough. But Friday I got a call from Letterman! I won an online lottery for tickets to the show, but had to answer a question about the show to win them. I was in the shower when they called, so before I called back, I googled the Late Show website to brush up on facts. I was sure I wouldn't know the answer since I don't watch as often as I used to. But the question was easy - What color is the announcer's hair? Red! I actually think I knew that one before I googled! So we will be in the studio audience of Letterman on Thursday night! So watch GMA and Letterman on Thursday the 21st and look for me and David.


What else? Valentine's Day! Jackson had a big day Thursday. At school they decorated little goody bags for valentine's and all the moms/dads sent a treat for the kids. The grocery store was out of the little boxes of cards for kids so I bought a package of stickers and some little rattle favors and made them up for each kid. My first mommy preschool project! I was feeling ok about it until Thursday afternoon when I picked him up and saw what some of the other moms had done. Little cellophane bags full of treats and cool things. Man. I don't want to start this mommy competition crap in preschool. So I am gonna let it go that what I did wasn't as cool as what some other moms did. I will not compete, hear me, self? I will not compete!

When I took him to school that morning he got really clingy when we got there. He wanted me to carry him and he didn't want to be put down in his classroom. He cried a little and told me "no, no!" I was afraid he was going to have a melt-down and I didn't understand. He talked about school all morning and said he wanted to go, and when we got there he wasn't happy. But then a couple of the other kids came up and took him by the arm and dragged him off to play. Little girls, of course. And he kind of threw me a look over his shoulder like, "Ok, I guess I'll stay." He quit crying immediately and lost all interest in me. I had to take him by the shoulders to get his attention to say I was leaving. He didn't care. So I guess he is a little apprehensive about school, but enjoys it anyway.


Thursday evening, Mom and Tonya brought over the car bed Tonya has been building for the last several months. She worked so hard on it and boy is it gorgeous! Jackson loves it. We don't have a twin mattress for it yet, but he was so excited and wanted to sleep in it right away. So we pulled the mattress out of the crib and piled pillows around it to make up for the gap so he could go ahead and sleep in it. We'll get a twin mattress tomorrow afternoon, I hope. If we can track down a truck to use and it isn't raining too much.


Did I cover everything? Speech, callback, valentine suburban mom thing, car bed, Letterman and GMA? I think that is all.

Send NYC restaurant recommendations if you have them! We are leaving Wednesday bright and early.

First Day of School and Purse Karma?

I dropped Jackson off at preschool this morning without incident. He was excited to go in the classroom and all but pushed me out the door when I tried to tell him I was leaving. He didn't seem the least bit concerned. He just wanted to play with the kids. When I picked him up, he was happy to see me and pretty worn out. The teachers said he acted like he had been coming all year.


He fit right in and did well. I am so excited that he gets to go and be with other kids and start learning how to interact with them. It was a little bumpy back at the Palace; he was so tired but didn't want to lay down. So I let him yell it out a little and he finally crashed.

My audition last night went well. I read a few scenes and suspect I will be called back on Saturday. It was really fun to just get in there and read. Whether I get a part or not, I am happy to have gone. It is interesting that I read more for the part I thought I didn't fit than the one I thought was more me. But after reading the other, I realize I was underestimating myself. I did relate to her - a veteran New Yorker - in a way I didn't expect. It was really cool to discover that the director saw me differently and brought out something I wasn't sure was there. I love theatre. I usually hate auditioning, but it is such a treat for me at this point after being cancer girl for so many months. I am enjoying myself again.

So after I dropped Jackson off at school I went to the Palace to work. This morning we had a photo shoot scheduled. Shape Magazine, a national publication, scouted our location at some point recently and we didn't even know it. They took pictures, even. How did we miss that? They really liked the art deco feel of the place and scheduled one of their fashion shoots at the theatre. Pretty cool and last minute as they just called us yesterday to see if it was ok. So we made an easy $200 rental fee and got to spy on an honest-to-goodness NYC fashion page photo shoot. Elizabeth, Larry and I kept waiting for the models to show up, expecting some perfectly fit gorgeous people to come waltzing in.

Little did we know the models were already there; a normal, good-lookingish guy and the tall, incredibly skinny, odd-looking girl in the lobby. Blonde, very straight hair, blunt-cut bangs and I swear, the skinniest, longest legs I have ever seen - like toothpicks. She has NYC runway model written all over her. We were disappointed. We were expecting the old-style model, like Cindy Crawford or Kathy Ireland with gorgeous figures and healthy glows - Shape Magazine, right? Elizabeth suggested she and I get some donuts and eat a bunch of them while we watched the shoot. I said, "only if we throw them up afterwards."


And here is a picture of me with an incredibly trendy and expensive, limited edition Coach designer bag. Lovely, well-made, smells like leather and the gold chain weighs a ton. Very nice. Does it look like me? Hmmm. I think not. I am not quite cool enough for it, I think.

You may be asking, "Did Marsha go out and buy this $358 too-small-to-be-useful bag after trying in vain to deny that she wants one?" Alas no. I did not. After my last blog about 'handbags' and the shameful admiration I seem to be fostering for them, I got my hands on this one two days later. By accident. It was a prop in the fashion shoot. The Shape Magazine people left it lying on the floor in the auditorium like a discarded playbill and called this afternoon frantic for me to find it. They gave me their Fed-Ex account number to overnight it to them. I have to send it off in the morning, but first I had to bring it home and photograph myself with it for posterity. I don't even want to keep it. Well, not much anyway. And I am all paranoid that something is going to happen to it before I can get it to Fed Ex tomorrow. I have to put it somewhere the cats or the kid can't get to it and draw with his markers all over it or spill juice on it. Heh. Wouldn't that be funny?


So how do I know how much it costs? The tags are still inside it. Along with this leather sewn-in tag. David made me take this picture of it to show it is the real thing - limited edition - it's even numbered.


And has gorgeous striped satiny fabric lining it. Very nice. Sigh. This really isn't helping me to get over wanting one. I certainly wouldn't buy this particular one. It isn't multi-purpose enough. But maybe one more like this. :o)

Pics, Shows, Bikers and Shopping Mania

First a couple pictures Joni did, as promised. This is the one I sent to Coping Magazine.



The purple bracelet is the one my husband wears everyday - it says "Fuck Cancer." I love it.


I have had a pretty busy weekend. It's been good. Saturday morning I got up and did my Pilates exercises, and then David, Jackson and I headed to the grocery store for a massive run. Were home by noon for Jackson's nap. I then proceeded to clean up my closet, getting rid of the tons of clothes that don't fit or never wear and things just taking up space. I was able to consolidate things so I could see my shoe rack again. I had clothes hanging in front of it, so my shoes were all piled up on the floor instead of on the shelf. What I have is an old book shelf that is perfect for my shoes, but it doesn't help to have an organized place for things if the rest of the closet is so unorganized you can't get to it. So I worked most of the afternoon on that. Then I headed in to Austin to see a play.

To my horror, I was late to the play, had to sneak in after they started. I have never had to do that and as an actor, I really hate it when people do it. It is distracting. But the damned interstate was shut down in Round Rock so they could demolish a bridge. That cost me 15 minutes. Then I couldn't find parking downtown. Had to park five or six blocks away. When I finally parked, I ran, really, ran those blocks to get to the Hideout Theatre. I couldn't believe that I could do that. I ran and got a little out of breath, but not much. I am getting some stamina back and it feels great. Being late to the theatre, however, does not feel great. It feels stupid.

The show was wonderful. I saw Five Women Wearing the Same Dress - the show whose audition I missed by being in the blasted hospital. I really wanted to do that show. But I put aside any bitterness and thoroughly enjoyed the show. The ladies in the cast were great. The dresses were fittingly unattractive and the audience appreciative. It was a near-capacity crowd, which I am really happy to see for such a new theatre company. Good job, guys. Keep up the great work.

After the show I was invited to go to the Continental Club to hear some music, but I didn't feel up to find parking again. Not by myself anyway. Instead I sat with some friends in the coffee shop and had a good time discussing the primaries and everyone's predictions about them. It felt good to be out among peers and not at all as hard as it was month or two ago. As I feel physically better and spend more time among 'regular' people I am getting better about not feeling so separate and different. I had fun.

Everyone was so complimentary about my new hairs. They say I look cool with super-short hair. Made me feel good. Course those most effusive were the table of ladies I sat with after the show - all of them gay. They laughed and told me my new hair made me look hot and that it is lesbian approved. Awesome.

Very cool, since I am auditioning for a show this week in which the two main characters are women who fall in love with each other - both of whom previously dated men. It is a really great play, well-written and the dialogue is snappy. Very much written how people talk, I am excited to audition. There are only two parts in my age range, and really only one that fits me, so it may be a long-shot. But auditioning should be fun and I am looking forward to it.

Today, David and I took Jackson to Harker Heights to see his Omi and Grandpa. It was such a gorgeous day we went to the park so he could play. While we were there we saw a large group of motorcycle riders. They came and parked, their bikes all lined up and shiny, and proceeded to the picnic pavilion in the park. We didn't think much of it until we were walking nearby to get to the little pond to see the ducks. We passed by the pavilion and realized they had posted what looked like sentries all around them. Big biker dudes stood at each corner and spaced in between, probably 6 of them, facing out with their arms crossed and blank expressions. I couldn't believe my eyes, but David and Susanne confirmed - these must be guards posted to 'protect' the biker meeting or whatever it was.

Now we are talking about a suburban park, with young families and joggers and people playing pick-up basketball and flying kites. And there is a group of bikers, in bandanas and leather gathering and nobody really cares. They have as much a right to be there as anyone else. They just looked like normal, mostly middle-aged people dressed to bike in the nice weather. "Oh, they're having a rally," we thought. No biggy. But then they posted their intimidating sentries and it got ridiculous really quickly. Are they worried the suburban couples might infiltrate and spy on them? Are they worried a wiener dog might get loose from his owner's chain and hassle them? WTF? They need to totally get over themselves. Must they take themselves so seriously? I mean, no one cares if they want to meet. Go for it. Have fun. But you'd better watch out for those Frisbee-throwing hippies, they might let the rival gang of forty-something riders in on their secret handshake. Whatever.

Back to my busy weekend. I need to confess that I kept myself so busy because I was fighting the urge to go shopping. Not grocery shopping - me shopping. I don't know what it is about my cancer ordeal that has left me so wanting of things. Mostly the trappings of womanhood - make-up, jewelry, clothes, shoes. And handbags. Why do I have this terrible urge to buy an expensive, trendy handbag? Why the fuck am I calling it a handbag? I have never shopped for a handbag. A handbag is something designer that you pay way too much for and want everyone to know the brand of. A purse is what I have always carried. A purse is something you pick up at Target when the strap of your old one breaks off in your hand and tosses its contents onto the Starbucks floor for everyone to see. That is who I have always been. Never a 'status handbag' carrier; I am usually carrying a purse - or a box with a handle - that I got as a gift. Now I find myself secretly surfing eBay for Coach and Marc Jacobs. Geez, somebody shoot me! I find myself admiring other women's status bags in the grocery store. Half of which are probably knock-offs and I can't tell the difference, thank god. I am not that far gone.

Someone save me from this material need that has possessed me since I was diagnosed with cancer. Is it simply the need to feel pretty after losing my hair? The need for control over something? Or is it the realization that I may not be here long-term and dammit I want nice stuff? Sigh. I dunno, but I now have four or five different colors of eye shadow for the first time in my life - and I like it. I have always simply brushed my eyelids with whatever color of blush I was wearing - usually a mocha pinkish thing. Now I actually look at pictures in fashion magazines and study their eye shadow, determining what colors I'd like to get. So far I have managed to stifle the most disturbing of these urges, like the handbag thing. Hopefully I will either get over it and get back to my former frugal (read: cheap) ways or I will come to grips with it and feed the least expensive of my needs in a responsible way. Or maybe I will bankrupt my husband at the mall like the most cliché of wives.

Next thing you know, I'll be getting highlights in my hair and then you will know that the old Marsha is truly gone, never to be seen again.

Found one!

I visited another preschool today and they actually have an opening to start immediately, since a family just moved. This is very fortunate since all the other places I visited or called have nothing until the fall. And it turns out the director of A Child's Place at Wellspring Methodist Church is a lady I know. Or used to know. We both went to Southwestern and our ex-husbands used to party together. I vaguely remember that she was a preschool director in those days. Never thought I'd be putting a kid into her program, but it is a really small world. Especially in Georgetown.

Jackson again didn't want to leave and threw an absolute fit. He just wants to stay and play with the kids and more importantly, all the new and different toys they have there. So I am gathering his shot records and buying him a lunch box and starting Tuesday, he goes to school twice a week 9a to 1p. I think he will like it.

I am nervous. I wonder if he will behave. Will he follow the rules? Whine like he does at home when he doesn't get his way? I know I shouldn't worry. He is two and will act like a two-year-old, sometimes good, sometimes bad. I guess what I am feeling is about me, really. Will he behave and be a good boy and reflect well on me as a parent? Or will he be known as the class brat, the difficult child whose mother must be a pushover. People tell me he is well-behaved, but what they see is that he is not so much well-behaved as he is sociable and happy in a world where people pretty much give him whatever he wants. He does not like to do as I say. He does what he pleases unless forced to do otherwise. How will he do in an environment that doesn't revolve around him? He won't be the only kid in the room anymore. Cute and charming can only get you so far, you have to learn how to negotiate within your peer circle. I suppose this is the first step for him. It should be pretty laid back as they don't start their real curriculum until three-years-old. They focus on play and interaction with others. Storytime. Lots of playtime outside. That sort of thing. This will give him an opportunity to figure out how to socialize when he isn't with mom, dad or doting grandparents. I am excited for him. And worried. But not too worried.

People at work have told me that the first day will be hard on me and I will probably cry to leave him at school. But I don't think I will. I did all that last July when I had to pack his bag and send him to his grandparents for four days while I got my port implanted and a bone marrow biopsy and had my first chemo. Putting him in the car that day was hard. Sending him away because I had cancer made me sob. Even though it was only four days, it felt awful. All summer and fall I sent him off so I could have chemo. Leaving him at preschool for four hours twice a week can't compare with that. I had to come to grips with letting go of him for his own good. I don't see me crying over preschool. This, I am doing by choice.

I am continuing to do the pilates and aerobics videos several times a week. Well, a few times a week. If I do it three days out of seven, does that qualify as several? It sounds better to me than 'a few.' A 'few' sounds lazy. As in "I only get off my ass 'a few' times a week to work out." 'Several' sounds so ambitious. "Several times a week Marsha does her body and her backside good by stretching and stregnthening her muscles." See? Much better.

But seriously, I am really beginning to see a diffence in my strength. Still no change on the scale. I guess I am only counteracting the cupcakes and cookies I can't stop eating. But I am feeling sronger and leaner, if not lighter. If I could make myself go from 'a few' workouts to truly 'several' and maybe even up it to 'often', I'd be a hard-body. That would rock!

I can't believe I am going to be in New york City in 13 days. Wow. David and I are getting excited. Seems unreal. But it is fast approaching and I need to get on the stick and make sure I have everything I need and look up what I can and can't take on the airplane. I haven't been on a place since pre-9/11. Makes me a little nervous, but I'll get over it.

Preschool

We are in the process of looking for a pre-school for Jackson to attend a few mornings a week. I am having a hard time finding programs online. I google pre-schools in Georgetown and one place comes up. I am certain there is more than one pre-school in G'town. But there doesn't seem to be many. Daycare centers are plentiful, but if you aren't looking for all day five days a week, your options are basically limited to what local churches have to offer. I want to find something in Georgetown so I can drop him off in the morning, head to the Palace to do some work and then pick him up after lunch and bring him back for his nap.

Jackson and I stopped by the Grace Episcopal Preschool on Tuesday to check out their program. It looked nice. They have built an addition specifically for the school. Nice sized rooms, great playground and nice people. Good price too. The only downside is that they keep an Elementary school calendar, they are open September thru May, nothing in the summer. So I can sign him up starting in March to begin attending in September. If I get there before it is filled up, that is. I would like to find something that he can start now. He was so excited on the visit, he wanted to go in and play with the kids. He was so mad at me when we left. He cried for 20 minutes that he wanted to "go to schoooool!" I don't want him to remain isolated till September. The poor boy was forced into isolation when I got cancer. He wasn't allowed to be around kids and their germs. Now that I am not taking chemo, it is time for him to get out there and play.

I would love to send him to Montessori, but it is pretty darn expensive. I need to check out the Georgetown Montessori to see what they run, but I bet it is too much. I may pick up more hours at the Palace if we get him in a program, but that probably won't be enough to pay for it. We shall see. I also have to find some place that is not so strict on the potty training. I have seen some places that have a cut-off at 3 years old - No diapers on 3-year-olds. I would love to say that Jackson will be trained by 3, but his birthday is in July and so far he is quite resistant to the idea of the potty. Not interested. So what is that? Five months? Hmmmmm. Doesn't seem likely.

David has been tired lately, going to bed early. Last night he went to bed at 9:00 and tonight he hit the sack at 8:15! He got up super early this morning to prepare for a presentation so I understand why he is tired. But damn. I feel so abandoned. I hate being up by myself. Reminds me of the brief time I spent living alone in my own apartment. I hated it. Although I will say my place was spotless nearly all the time. Bed made in the morning, my two dishes a day washed right after dinner. It was nice. Not like right this second, with the vast amounts of toy cars strewn about and the dishes in the sink. Not sure why that is. Why would I be a neat freak when living alone? Must have been boredom and loneliness. I hate sitting up by myself. I don't mind being up late, I prefer it, actually, to getting up early. I even enjoyed (mostly) my time with baby Jackson, sitting in my recliner nursing him and watching MASH episodes really quietly at 2:00 in the morning.

Ah, those were the days, when I could cuddle, snuggle and kiss on the boy and he couldn't complain at all. Or run from me screaming "Noooo kissseeessss!

I still can't get blogger to spellcheck and now I can't upload the picture I sent to Coping Magazine. Well, trust me, Joni did a good job. I'll share if/when blogger lets me. What gives?

Hey, Where's My Shoulder-Length Hair?

Law and Order SVU has a storyline on right now in which a bunch of embryos have been stolen from an invitro clinic. One of the embryo moms is a woman who created embryos prior to chemo. The actress is Gabrielle Anwar. Her character repeatedly claims to be four months post-chemo...and she has gorgeous shoulder-length hair. Obviously not a wig. It leaves me wondering why the casting director or whoever makes these decisions decided that after four months, you get your hair back. Maybe they know something I don't know. Am I going to wake up in April to a head full of swinging hair? I can't fucking wait. Morons.

WTF? No Spellchecker?

Jackson is on the upswing I think. It is a lingering illness though. He threw up again in the middle of the night last night, but has seemed fine all day today. Except he really hasn't eaten much of anything in days. Hopefully his appetite will improve soon. Tomorrow I plan to really try to get some food into him.

I did go to the Team In Training kick off party on Thursday. I was pretty impressed with the number of people that signed up to train for an event. There were people who looked like runners and triathletes and there were normal-looking people too. Not sure what makes people decide to up and run a marathon. I guess the test of endurance is attractive. But not one part of me has any interest in actually running a marathon. I figure I have tested my endurance. Once through 13 hours of unmedicated labor and birth and then two years later through 18 weeks of chemotherapy. My endurance has been good and tested, but I will sure be happy to cheer on and admire those who are choosing to go for it and raise money for LLS.

At the event a cancer survivor named Meg Brown spoke about her experience with Lymphoma at the age of 22. She is five years in remission now and does a lot of speaking. She spoke with such grace and humor and ease. Really showed me how it's done. I definitely need to take a page from her book and really personalize my story. I have some work to do if I want to become a good public speaker. I think I can do it, but I do need practice.

Today I met with Joni for a short photo shoot. I need a picture to send to Coping Magazine and just wanted to get a few shots of the way I look now, with one inch of hair. We took some Chemo Queen shots and some normal shots and hopefully we have some good ones. I am a notoriously self-concious model so I am rarely happy with the way I look in photos. I tend to look akward and uncomfortable because as soon as a camera is pointed at me, I have no idea what to do with my body. But if anyone can make me look good, it's Joni. We shall see. I'll share when I get them.

Grrr! The last few times I have posted bloggers spell checker has been hosed. I rely on spell checker to make sure I don't look like an absolute idiot with stupid errors. So I can't check this post like I couldn't check the last few. So my secret is going to be out, I am a crappy speller. Oh well.